The Best Treasure
by Silindro
Summary: Oneshot. Killian teaches six-year-old Henry to be a pirate, like any good stand-in father figure would want to do. Emma approves and observes. CaptainSwan. Fluff.


Well, let's give this CaptainSwan thing a try, hmm?

I should mention this is AU-ish. Imagine a Storybrooke world where everyone knows their place in the fairy tale, but there hasn't been _all_ of the struggle that went on in the show. Timelines are a bit off, but I'm _well_ aware of that. Sound good? Good.

 _Standard disclaimers apply._

 **The Best Treasure -**

If Henry's adoration of Killian got any worse, Emma felt like she was going to have to have a talk with her son. Of course she was fine with the two of them bonding and spending guy-time together. She knew she should have been thrilled that she lucked out with a boyfriend that got along so well with her boy. But sometimes it felt that the pirate was making playdates with a six year old instead of a twenty-six year old.

The two did everything together. Fishing, lunch, movies, even story time was occasionally commandeered by her one-handed beau. When Killian had moved in the month previous, Henry immediately assumed that the two would be sharing his superhero-themed bedroom like brothers.

That had been more of an awkward conversation that she had expected it to be. Of course, he was her son, which meant he was naturally curious. Explaining why grown ups needed alone time was something she didn't feel she was mature enough to talk about, especially not with a child.

"Morning Mom," Henry greeted more cheerfully than normal as he padded into the kitchen, wearing his favorite fuzzy house shoes.

"Hey kid," she smiled back, reaching for a bowl to pour his cereal.

Usually their weekend mornings consisted of cartoons and breakfast first thing, with some outside time down at the park after lunch. Afternoons were always up in the air depending on who called or didn't call, or what was on TV, or just sounded like fun to the little boy.

"Coco Pebbles or Fruit Loops?" she asked, her hand pausing between the boxes.

"Coffee and toast," he responded, "with strawberry jam."

"...really?"

His answering nod left no room for discussion. The boy knew what he wanted. He raised his eyebrows at his mother, waiting for her to move from the spot she stood, staring at him with a slightly slack jaw.

"Good morning all," Killian greeted, strolling into the kitchen in his pajamas. He leaned down and kissed Emma on the cheek before taking a seat at the table.

Emma pulled two mugs out of the cabinet, setting one down in front of each of her boys. Killian's usual black mug, with a skull and crossbones, and for Henry she grabbed his favorite lime green mug with a black mustache. It was apparently the wrong thing to do, if the glare Henry gave her was any indication. She immediately took the cup back, setting a more mellow mug in its place. Black with red accent on the side. Manly.

Killian had his face buried in the newspaper, reading quietly to himself, and in his own world where he hadn't seen the mother and son exchange moments before. He was not so distracted that he hadn't managed to toss the cartoons on the table before immersing himself in the goings on of the outside world.

Emma grabbed the coffee pot, taking it over to the table to pour in the empty mugs. Killian reflexively reached out to unnecessarily steady the mug on the table with his hook, just as he did every morning. Henry was familiar with the routine, of course. He lacked the coordination to hold his comics page and hold the coffee mug, though. Internally, Emma was trying her hardest to hold it together. She tried not to smile as the boy fumbled with his paper, eventually choosing to release the coffee mug instead.

"Sugar?" she asked Henry, sliding the jar over to her son.

"No thank you," Killian replied, not realizing that he wasn't being spoken to. "Cream, please."

"Cream, please," Henry echoed.

The corner of Killian's newspaper came down, and the pirate gave his girlfriend's son a curious look. He hadn't paid attention to two coffee mugs being filled before, but now he was confused by the situation unfolding before him. He looked to Emma for an answer, but she shrugged, just as confused as he was.

"Toast?" she asked Killian, pulling Henry's pieces out of the toaster. The coffee cream was in her other hand.

"Not today, thanks," he shook his head. "Coffee's good."

When she put the toast in front of her son, he pushed the plate back. "No thanks."

"What are you playing at?" Hook asked, dropping his newspaper to the table. "Your mother made breakfast and you aren't going to eat it?"

"You aren't having anything," he reasoned.

"Why are you copying everything I do this morning?"

"I'm learning how to be a pirate," he explained. "Since you're a pirate, you know what to do."

"Why do you want to be a pirate?"

"Because _you're_ a pirate!"

It was all the explanation he was going to get, he knew. And a small part of him was flattered that he had such an effect on the boy. Hero-worship was something he hadn't had to deal with before, and it felt remarkably good. Good enough that he felt like indulging the boy's high-sea desires.

"Henry-" Emma started.

"Pirates get an early start on the day," Hook said, taking a long swig of his coffee. "We're a bit behind, but we'll get going after breakfast. Drink your coffee."

Henry reached out for the mug, looking apprehensively at his drink. Asking for it had been one thing, but gulping it down was another. He had only ever tried coffee once before in his life, and it had left a lasting negative impression on him. Even now he could still taste the bitter memory on his tongue.

"Let me have that," Emma finally said after watching her son's internal struggle. She took the mug away from him, tossing half of the black liquid in the sink. She dropped in three heavy spoonfuls of sugar, stirred quickly, and topped the rest off with milk. "Try it now."

He sniffed at his mug, and decided that maybe he'd give it a try now. The coffee smell was so faint as to not even be there anymore. When the pale brown liquid touched his tongue, he smiled in surprise. This was definitely his kind of coffee. He gulped it down quickly.

"So what's on the agenda for today, then?" she asked, finally taking her own seat at the table.

"That's confidential," Killian replied with a wink. "Pirates don't kiss and tell, you know."

"Oh, so there's going to be some kissing?" Emma questioned.

"Just one," Killian smiled, leaning over to press his lips soundly against hers. "And now I'll take my leave."

* * *

Storybrooke in October was wonderful. The weather was chilly enough for a jacket, the leaves were beginning to lose their luster, and most important of all, Halloween. The inhabitants of the Enchanted Forest had been quick to jump on the costume train. After all, for many of them, life in Storybrooke was an elaborate play from which they could not escape.

In the years they had all been trapped in Maine, they had acclimated to life in a non-magical world. But for one day a year, they could all take on their former personas, dressing to the occasion. And because of this, there was always a need for a costumier at least one month out of the year.

Henry was elated at the idea that he would get to dress like an actual pirate. Hook had promised him as much. And as they made their way down Main Street, the boy chattered on endlessly about ideas for how he wanted to dress.

"Maybe an eye patch," he said, tapping his finger against his chin. "Oh, what about a fancy hat with a feather!"

"I'm going to shut that idea down right now," Hook shook his head. "Those hats are impractical and never did any pirate any good."

"How about boots?"

"Certainly."

"Is this where you got your outfit?"

Hook shook his head, scoffing at the idea that his jacket could ever come from a costume shop. It was much too high quality for something like that. He had bought it back home, before the curse. His jacket was a part of him, and not something so easily replicated.

"Afraid not, my boy," he replied. "This jacket was crafted hundreds of years ago."

"What will you do when it wears out?" Henry asked curiously.

"Patch it up, I suppose. I guess I've never thought about it."

"Mom's not good at sewing, so don't ask her," Henry frowned.

"Aye," Hook agreed. "Here we are."

Henry walked a bit slower as they passed by the front window. There were mannequins on display in dresses and rich, royal-type garb. A sign proclaiming new Halloween fashions was on display in the window as well. Hook could feel the excitement coming off the boy in waves. By the time he reached the door, he had a firm grasp on Henry's shoulder, making sure the boy didn't run into the shop and straight into a clothing rack or patron.

"Take it easy, lad," he cautioned. "The shop isn't going anywhere."

"Where should we start?" he asked with enthusiasm accenting every word.

"Pants, I think," he said, glancing around the shop.

It was a small store for the most part, no larger than Granny's, and stocked so full of garments on racks and in piles that there were no aisles to really walk through. Rather than sectioning things off by men, women, and children, things seem to be organized by type of outfits. They walked straight past the frilly, formal ball and dressing gowns. No need for useless frocks on their adventure.

In the back of the shop was a wall of cubby holes, each with different sizes and colors of pants. Hook bent down toward the bottom, reaching inside to grab a sturdy pair of dyed black canvas pants. Not knowing what size Henry wore, he held them up, trying his best to gauge the fit.

"I'm a five," Henry offered.

Hook checked the tag, realizing that the ones he had chosen were much too snug. He folded them back up and tossed them back in the cubby, trading out for the size five Henry had mentioned. One piece down, pending a quick trip to the fitting room at the end.

"Shirt next," Hook instructed, pushing the boy gently in the direction of a rack of linen shirts behind them. "What color?"

"Black!" he exclaimed, perusing through the smaller shirts.

"Of course," Hook nodded. "There's no other option."

"How about this one?"

Hook took the hanger, holding it up in the dim light of the shop. It was a very plain linen shirt, with a neck that tied low, just below the collar bone with black laces. It was long sleeved, which was good for the weather, and not too decorated about the cuff of the sleeves. It was tight enough to look clean, but loose enough not to be constricting.

"This will do fine," he confirmed

"Now the boots!"

Footwear was a bit more troublesome. Common shoes were in overstock, piled high in pairs in a bin by the corner. They were all drab, brown and grey, made of cheap leather and whatever other materials one would find in the forest. Sturdy leather boots were in short supply here, only a few pair set aside from the rest of the footwear. Luckily they were both black to match the outfit.

"What size shoe?" he asked.

"Twelve, I think," he said, pulling off his sneaker to confirm the size inside. "Yeah."

Hook had the smallest pair of boots in hand, looking inside and on the bottom for a stamp or tag that would give him any indication of what size he was looking at. They seemed to be a try-me-on style, so he gave one to Henry to step into.

"It's a bit tight," he grunted, pushing his foot in as hard as he could.

"Don't hurt yourself," Hook instructed. "Try this one instead. And cross your fingers. You might be pirating in your sneakers if they don't fit."

Although the second pair was a bit more loose than he would have preferred, the thought of walking around in his bright green Chucks was something he couldn't even entertain. He grabbed the second boot and slipped it on his foot. After a quick walk and jog in place, he decided they would work.

"I want you to go put these on," he ordered, pointing back toward the dressing room. "Make sure you tuck the pants into the boots, and your shirt tail into your pants. Understand?"

"Yeah," he gave one large nod before running off.

The shopkeeper was behind the register, polishing rings and necklaces while he waited for his two patrons to finish shopping. He paused his task when Hook walked up, laying his hand and his hook on the counter.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, his eyes shining behind dusty spectacles.

"I need a jacket fit for a pirate," Hook said, taking a glance over his shoulder. "A small one."

"For your boy?" the man questioned.

Hook hesitated at that, hesitant to call Henry _his_ boy. Maybe some day. But the shopkeeper didn't need the whole story, so he nodded in reply, "Yes, for my boy."

"That's a bit of a specialty item," he coughed, leaving the counter and walking over to a large wardrobe that Hook hadn't noticed until just then. Its heavy doors were shut tight, showing an ornate carving of a tree across the front. "Don't get many come in here looking for pirate wear nowadays."

"Did you ever?" Hook asked quizzically. As far as he knew, Storybrooke only had a few of his own crew and none else.

"I suppose not," he shrugged. "Doesn't make this any less special."

"Let's see it."

The jacket was perfect. Black leather with a soft, quilted black interior. The collar was wide and slightly upturned around the back of the neck. He knew that the sleeves would need to be folded over if Henry wanted to use his hands at all. The gold buttons on the front were a nice embellishment, smooth and shiny. It was long enough to fall down just past the knees. All in all a very nice jacket for a young pirate.

"Cool!"

The shopkeeper and Hook both turned at that to see Henry standing there in his outfit, sans jacket.

"Is that mine?"

"Maybe," Hook said, holding the jacket open for Henry to slip into it. Rather than being very fitted, it was slightly loose around the chest, and hung longer in the arms than Hook would have liked.

"Something to grow into," the shopkeeper offered. "And he'll need a belt. Here."

Hook tied the leather belt around Henry's waist, making sure than the large gold buckle was centered in place. It was a very, very convincing outfit when all things were put together.

"How do you feel?"

"Like sailing the high seas," Henry replied.

"Good boy."

* * *

Eyes turned as the two walked side by side down Main Street, strutting along like they owned the world. To anyone who didn't know Emma Swan (and who didn't know Emma Swan?), they would have assumed that father and son were out for business. After all, they were both in similar dress, walked a similar walk, and even shared the same messy haircut.

"What shall we do first?" Hook asked.

"Pillaging!"

Hook chuckled at that, wondering from where the boy had gotten his pirate information. It had been at least twenty years since he had pillaged anything. Did pirates still pillage? He still carried with him a few doubloons in his coin purse from the last raid. Money wasn't something he spent often. Truth be told, he had tried to pay the shopkeeper with those very same coins, but his money had been turned away.

Apparently Emma was onto them. She had called ahead just in case they stopped by. He was sure he would get a talking to when he got home. The whole outfit was much more than he had anticipated, really.

"Well, we live here," Hook reasoned. "Pillaging from people we know isn't really pillaging. It's called being a public nuisance."

"Don't we need things? Like a compass or a treasure map?"

"That's for certain," Hook confirmed. "However, I've lost my own compass, and I don't know of any buried treasure in Storybrooke that we could search for."

"Oh, well maybe we could at least go find a compass?"

"Where do you think we should start?"

"The pawn shop!"

Hook pressed his lips together tightly, wishing that he had stopped that train of thought before it had even left the station. Mr. Gold was not someone he wanted to visit on most days, and especially not when he had the man's grandson dressed up in gear that he knew the man despised. Of all Storybrooke's inhabitants, there was no one who disliked Hook more.

"Can't you think of anywhere else?" he asked.

"No," Henry, shrugged. "He has a lot of really cool things. Maybe he knows where to find your compass!"

Before Hook could stop him, the boy was already running down the street toward the shop. It was only a few hundred paces down the sidewalk. He could see the hanging sign from where he stood, the wooden plank swaying slightly in the wind.

When he stepped in the shop, the soft tinkle of the bell announcing a customer sounded over his head. Henry was already inside, standing at the counter, looking into the relics behind the glass panels. He was no doubt leaving smudgy, child-sized fingerprints all over the glass.

The delayed tapping of feet and a cane grew louder from the back of the shop. The curtain parted, and the owner appeared.

"Good morning," he greeted amicably. "What brings you in to my shop today?"

"Hi grandpa," Henry waved.

"Well well," Gold said, examining the scene before him. "This is unexpected. Where did you get such an… interesting costume?"

"The shop on the other end of Main Street," he answered proudly. "I'm going to be a pirate!"

"Is that so?" Gold replied, looking at Hook rather than Henry. "What prompted this?"

Hook could feel the disdain dripping from every word that left the man's mouth. He just hoped that Henry didn't pick up on how much his grandfather disapproved of his current aspiration. Their day had been pleasant so far, and he didn't need some cantankerous old man ruining things.

" _Killian's_ a pirate," he answered as if that was a good enough reason as any.

"That he is," Gold nodded with a strained smile. "Why have you come to my shop today?"

"We're looking for a compass," Henry said, looking back to the display case. "Killian doesn't know where his is, so we came to see if you have one."

"A compass? I may have something along those lines." He stepped away from the case and began to shift around objects in a drawer behind him. "It didn't belong to your beloved captain, but it serve your purposes."

Henry held the compass in his hand, feeling the weight of the antiquated object. It was in a pocket-watch style, with a flip-open top made of shiny, worn brass. The glass was scratched, but the needle stayed true, even as the boy spun in a circle, testing it out.

"What about a spyglass? Have you one of those as well?"

Gold nodded, reaching behind him to a shelf at eye level, pulling down the worn item and handing it over to Hook. He held onto one end as the pirate held onto the other, and he pulled it slightly back toward himself, dragging Hook with it.

"Do not sully my grandson with your indecorous ways," he growled quietly. "My son may be dead, but I can still keep watch over _his_ son. I don't need the family line tainted by your kind."

"That's not for you to decide," Hook growled back. "How much for the goods?"

After price had been settled, the two pirates made their way out of the shop with their tools in hand. Henry busied himself with testing out the compass as they walked, amazed at how the needle always pointed one direction.

"It always points north," Hook explained. "When you're lost at land or sea, it will always help you find your way."

"How?"

"Well, say you were in the woods and you knew that you lived east of the river. If you could use the compass to know what direction was north, you could tell how to walk east and find your way."

"Oh," he said in a voice that clearly said he didn't understand.

"Look," Hook said, kneeling down on Henry's level. He opened the compass in the boy's hand. "Our house is by the water's edge, right?" The boy nodded. "So I can tell you that the water is east of us, which is _that_ direction. So if you spin this way," Hook turned the boy a little to the left, "you'll point north. If east is to the right of north, then you know you need to walk to the right."

"Oh!" Dawning realization spread across his face. "But I don't know directions."

"North is always where the compass points," he said, spinning Henry back to align with the arrow. "The E on the compass means east. S for south. W for west." He spun the boy in a circle, stopping on each direction. "If you use your compass you'll always find home."

"If I keep using the compass I'll get dizzy," he laughed.

Hook ruffled the boy's hair affectionately as he stood back up. "Let's go find somewhere to use the spyglass."

Somewhere happened to be the library tower, where Hook had inadvertently taught Henry the art of sneaking around. He had waited until Belle was preoccupied with a patron before moving to the door that lead them up the stairs to where the town's large clock face was displayed. Hook knew this was the easiest roof access for their desired vantage point.

"Are we supposed to be up here?" Henry asked skeptically.

"No, but pirates don't really follow the rules too closely. Don't tell your mom I said that, though."

The wind blew a little harder on the roof, and Hook could feel his eyes watering from the cold. He saw the boy pulling his coat closed at the neck, trying to shield himself from the frigid temperature. It wasn't dangerously cold, though, so he thought they could stay a few minutes to try out their other tool before heading out. Pirates were supposed to tough it out anyway, right?

"Come over here," Hook beckoned, standing against the edge of the roof. He had a wooden crate next to him where he directed Henry to stand. "We can see all of Main Street from here."

Henry held the spyglass up to his eye, squinting hard on one side and adjusting the other against the tool.

"Neat, I can see everyone on the street," he said. "I can see their faces so close. There's Ashley!"

Hook looked in the general direction, noting Henry's babysitter walking down the street with a grocery bag in hand, completely oblivious to the fact that she was being spied on.

"And Dr. Hopper!"

"Not so loud," Hook chuckled. "You don't want everyone to know you're there. Secrecy is very important to a pirate."

"Oh okay, sorry. I think I see Ruby down the street."

Hook turned to lean back against the rail of the roof, blocking his face from the brunt of the blowing wind. He had used a spyglass hundreds, maybe thousands, of times in the past. He was content to let the boy have his fun. It had been far too long since he had been around anyone quite as excited about the tools of his old trade.

The more he stood there, listening to Henry prattle on about the things he saw below, the more he thought on how the boy was the exact kind of son he wanted in his life. His own father had sold him into slavery at a young age, content to take his leave for a better life for himself. Hook had always told himself he would never do anything so atrocious to his own family. Standing on the roof of the library, he wondered how his father had ever let him go. He could never see himself abandoning Henry like that. He was far too attached to the boy in the short few years they had been together.

"Killian?"

"Hmm?" Hook was shaken out of his thoughts.

"It's cold up here, can we go back down?"

"Of course," he said, helping Henry down off the crate. They walked back toward the tower door with Hook's hand resting protectively on Henry's shoulder.

* * *

"What's next? Plundering?"

"Where are you coming up with this stuff?" Hook asked, raising a curious eyebrow down at his companion.

"You don't plunder things?"

Hook thought back to Emma then, and how she teased him in the most delicious ways with the occasional bit of saucy lingo. He could remember a night not too long ago where she had come out of the bathroom and asked something similar of him when he had been deep into a book he kept by the bedside.

"How about some sword fighting," he offered instead, clearing his throat. "A good pirate needs to be able to hold his own in a fight."

"Where's your sword?"

"Well, it's tucked away at the house, but I'm sure we can find something suitable for the both of us to practice with."

"Grandpa has some wooden swords," he remembered. "I'm sure he'd let us borrow them."

Hook groaned inwardly. Although Emma's parents were never openly hostile toward him, he knew that they harbored slight grudges against him for his rocky start to a relationship with their daughter. He hadn't always been the debonair swashbuckler that he currently made himself out to be. It had taken quite a long time to get under his beloved's skin, and even longer to get in the okay graces of her family.

As they made their way to David and Mary Margaret's flat, he hoped that they could find it in themselves to humor their grandson with his pirate delusion. He didn't want to set back their hard-earned tolerance by indulging the boy for a day. He wasn't quite sure what they would say or do. Worry sat heavy in the back of his mind right up until they stood at the door, Henry knocking confidently on the painted wood.

After a moment the door opened, and David stood there with surprise written across his face.

"What a surprise," he commented, looking from Hook to Henry and back to Hook again. "We weren't expecting company."

"We didn't expect we'd be coming," Hook replied. "But you have something we'd like to borrow."

David stood back, opening his arm to the room inside. "Come on in."

"Who is it?" a voice came from upstairs. Mary Margaret peeked her head over the railing.

"It's Killian and Henry."

"Oh!"

The petite woman was instantly making her way down the stairs, a book clutched in her hand. Although surprised, she seemed happy to see them. She hugged Henry tightly once her feet had touched the floor.

"That's quite the get-up," she commented, stepping back to finger the high collar on Henry's jacket. "Are those new boots?"

"Yep! Killian is gonna teach me how to be a pirate," Henry beamed.

"Is that so?" Mary Margaret looked a bit skeptical. "And Emma..."

"Is onboard with the idea," Hook confirmed with a slight nod. "She bought the outfit. I'm just the lucky chap that gets to teach him how to be a buccaneer."

"You said you needed to borrow something," David said. "What could you possibly need from us?"

"Your practice swords," Henry answered. "The wooden ones that you keep in the closet. Can we borrow them? Killian's gonna show me how to sword fight!"

"Oh how fun!" Mary Margaret smiled, clapping her hands together. "David and I used to sword fight."

"Yes, but we were fighting back then for real."

"I used to beat him all the time," she whispered conspiratorially.

"That's a lie," he deadpanned. "I think the practice swords are in the upstairs closet. Wanna help me look?"

Henry raced up the stairs with his grandfather in tow, making it to the top more quickly than he realized the boy was capable. Agility was a necessary trait for a good swordsman. Hook himself was quite agile, and made a mental note to base their lesson on how to dodge and avoid strikes.

"So where did all of this come from?" Mary Margaret asked, drawing Hook's attention as she walked over to the bar in the kitchen. "Tea?"

"No thank you, we won't be long," he answered. "And I'm really not sure. He was like this when I sat down for breakfast. Emma seemed just as surprised as I was."

"And she's really okay with it?"

"She seems to be," he nodded. "You know how she is. If there was a problem she would have stopped it early on rather than let it go."

"I suppose."

"Are _you_ okay with this?"

Mary Margaret stopped at this. She didn't think Hook cared much about what she or David thought about how he conducted his business, or with who. Even if that who was her grandson. The fact that he was asking spoke volumes about the progression of his temperament.

"Yes, I think so. Henry seems to hero-worship you, which is a good thing since you're such an important part of his life now. If he wasn't wanting any interaction with you at all, then we might have a problem."

"If I was an accountant or a farmer, would you still have to stop and think about your answer first?"

"If you were an accountant or farmer, I think I'd have to question my daughter's choice in men," she laughed. "She's much too wild for that!"

"Aye," he grinned. "That she is."

"I'm really glad you're there for them," she admitted. "She's been alone for so long… It's just a really good thing that she's found love again."

There was a silent moment where neither of them spoke, not really sure what else to say. The implication of Neal hung heavy in the air. He had died not long after Henry's birth, leaving Henry without a father, and Emma without a partner. He held no animosity toward the man, but it was always awkward being second after such a serious relationship.

"Found them!"

Henry came running down the stairs with just as much speed and vigor as he had when he had gone up them. He had a wooden sword in his hand than was a bit larger than Hook would have preferred for such a young boy, but it was a better tool than nothing. David followed behind with the second sword of the pair.

"Where should we practice?" Hook asked, taking the stick from David.

"Hmm," Henry thought, tapping his chin. "The park?"

"Good idea. There's plenty of space and moving around will warm us up quite a bit."

"Maybe we can get some hot chocolate later?"

"Perhaps," he tentatively agreed.

"Cool, let's go!"

"Thanks for these," Hook said, holding up his play sword. "I'll be sure to return them when we've finished."

"No rush," David said, holding up a hand. "I'm sure he'll be hassling you for more than one lesson."

They left the apartment then, after saying their goodbyes, and headed toward the park that was seated just behind the library. It had a swing set, slide, some monkey bars, and a small grassy area for general running about.

Rather than giving him a small talk about swordsmanship and fair play, he decided to take the direct approach and come at the boy with a swing of his wooden sword. Of course he would go easy on him, as he was still just a child, and this was his first foray into sword fighting. But there was no reason not to give him the sink or swim method of instruction. It was how a good pirate learned to fight.

Swinging swords at each other was how Emma found them a short time later. She had decided to walk down to Granny's for some lunch. The the sounds of wood clunking together had echoed through the chilly air, and brought her around the library and into the park. The sight of her son and her boyfriend playing together made her heart stutter in the warmest of ways.

She didn't announce herself as she walked into the park. They were so into what they were doing that neither one seemed to notice her when she took a seat on one of the swings. She leaned her head against the metal chain and watched as her two favorite men battled it out, swinging wooden swords at each other.

Henry seemed to have the upper hand in this fight, she grinned. Hook spent much of his time backing up and dodging Henry's attacks, holding up his sword occasionally to stop some of the more forward thrusts of the sword. He actually managed to strike Hook's leg once, which she was sure wasn't part of Hook's plan. The man winced as the wood made contact just above his knee. The leather padding his jacket provided did little to cushion the blow.

After that move, Hook seemed to think it was time to call their battle to an end. He used his hook to knock the sword out of Henry's hand, casting it a few feet away. Emma giggled when Hook hoisted Henry over his shoulder, spinning him in a circle that had the boy laughing loudly in delight.

She couldn't help but join in their delight, laughing out loud as she made her way over to them.

"Hi Mom!" Henry giggled.

Hook stopped spinning after a few rotations, feeling dizzy enough himself. He leaned down, giving his girlfriend a swift kiss on the lips before turning Henry's face in her direction. She ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Are you guys hungry? It's lunchtime and I was going to head over to Granny's," she offered.

"Famished," Hook answered. "It's been a busy day."

"You can tell me all about it at the diner."

Ten minutes later the three were seating themselves in one of the booths at Granny's. Henry had pushed in on Killian's side, scooting the man close to the wall. Emma was very entertained by this, but played off her amusement with a well-timed straightening of her face so Henry wouldn't see the smile that had just been there.

She supposed with the two of them in their fancy, black leather coats and she in her favorite red one that it looked like a miniature pirate council meeting. Figuratively speaking, their family did have one foot in the sea already. Killian was not only a pirate captain, but his ship was tied to the mooring in the harbor at the end of town. There wasn't anyone else in Storybrooke who better fit the pirate profile.

Ruby was at their table minutes after they arrived, pen and notebook in hand to get orders for drinks. She was used to the hero-worship from her friend's son, but her eyes still bugged slightly at the overt costume before her.

"Whoa, Henry! Cool outfit!"

The little boy beamed at the waitress, excited that someone was paying him the compliment for which he had been waiting. "Killian bought it," he said excitedly. "I'm a pirate now!"

"Pirate in training," Killian corrected. "You've still got some things to learn."

"Well what can I get the pirate in training to drink?"

"Hot cocoa! With cinnamon!"

"I'll have a coffee and a glass of water," Emma said as she perused the menu.

"Iced tea for me," Killian offered.

"I'll be right back," Ruby smiled as she ran off with their orders.

There was a silence at the table for a few moments while the trio read over the menu, trying to decide what they wanted for lunch. It wasn't difficult, really. They almost always got the same thing, with Henry being the only real variation. Grilled cheese sandwich and onion rings. Chicken fingers or a cheeseburger for the boy.

Emma watched her son over the top of her menu. He really was convincing as the son of her grown pirate to anyone who didn't know otherwise. Not that there were people in their small town that didn't know them. But she could see how anyone else could be confused. They had the same lanky build, soulful eyes, and messy dark hair. In their matching outfits it was easy to call them clones.

That line of thought took Emma to places she didn't often consider, what a child of theirs might look like. Would he or she also have his dark hair, or would they favor her lighter coloring? Surely they would be tall, as neither of them were on the shorter side. Would Killian Jr. be a name worth considering, or would he prefer some other more common name like John or Christine?

Ruby returning with drinks shook her out of her thoughts. She gave Killian a small smile when she realized she was being stared at.

After orders had been placed, Killian reached across the table to gather up her hand in his. He rubbed the soft skin with his calloused thumb.

"Dubloon for your thoughts?"

"They're worth a lot more than that," she grinned. "But it's nothing. Tell me about your day. I want to hear it all."

"We went to this really neat shop and found all of my clothes," Henry explained, taking away Hook's chances to tell her about their day so far. "There was a really big cabinet with my coat. And we tried on two pairs of boots but only these fit. They're a little big."

"I'm sure you'll grow into them," Emma grinned.

"I didn't have a sword, so we went to see Grandpa. He let us borrow these ones for practice," he gestured to the wooden weapons propped up in the corner of the booth next to Killian.

"You went to visit my parents?" she asked Killian in disbelief. "I'm shocked."

"Don't be as such," he scoffed. "Your father and I are on good terms."

"I'm not sure I'd describe it as good," she said pointedly.

"Cordial, then," he offered.

"Whatever you say, captain."

"We went to the pawn shop," Killian said. "Saw Gold about some of my belongings."

"Grandpa had his compass and his spyglass! We took them up to the library roof and watched people on the street."

"Voyeurism," she said with raised eyebrows. "What other bad habits do I need to break?"

"He taught me how to use a compass," Henry said, pulling the brass box out of one of his pockets. He flipped it open and watched the needle bounce around like a boat on water in his hand. He turned the box around a few times, satisfied that it always pointed north, just as Killian had explained. Henry set about telling her all about how it worked right up until their food came.

"So what's in store for the afternoon?" Emma asked as she bit through an onion ring.

"Thought we'd take a walk down to the docks," Killian said through a bite of his grilled cheese. "Might take the Jolly Roger out for a bit."

"Pirates only?" she asked.

"There might be room for a wench on board," he gleaned. "If you're interested, of course."

"Is that so?"

"Below deck," he nodded, leaning forward ever so slightly in his seat.

"What's down there?" she smiled.

"I'd be glad to show you," he smiled back.

"Are you two being gross? I can't tell. I'm just a kid, remember?"

Killian reached over and ruffled the boy's hair with his greasy grilled cheese fingers. "Of course we are. One of these days you'll be gross for girls too. Just you wait."

"I don't think so," he said skeptically.

The rest of lunch was eaten with light conversation. Henry was excited about going down to the docks. He enjoyed visiting the ship with Killian. They had been several times previously, though they had never taken the ship out sailing during those times. Emma wasn't worried about her son being on the water. She knew Killian was responsible.

Part of her felt slightly jealous that her little boy was finding hobbies that didn't include her. They had always shared things. Now he was growing up and growing out. She wasn't sure how her heart would feel when he made friends at school and began staying the night away from home. It was part of childhood, she knew. But part of it stung.

"You alright?" Killian asked, tossing an arm around her shoulder. He leaned his head again hers as they walked toward the water at the edge of town.

"I'm good," she affirmed.

"How about I take you out to dinner tonight," he offered. "We can spend some quality time together just you and me."

"And who's gonna babysit?"

"That can't be too hard to figure out. Everyone loves Henry."

"True enough, but not everyone loves giving up their evening. If you can pawn him off on someone then I might take you up on your offer. _And then some_."

"And then some? I like the sound of that."

* * *

Hours later the trio were on their way back to shore with Henry at the helm. Hook stood just behind the boy, making sure that he was steering the ship the right direction. The winds were calm enough that he felt safe letting the boy guide the vessel under his supervision. It was great practice to get him started on what could be a lifelong interest.

Hook had been surprised that Henry had stuck out with the pirate act for the entire day. He had assumed that the boy would be done with everything by lunch, and ready to head back home for video games and maybe tree climbing in the backyard. Not that he would have minded that kind of outcome. He was all for letting the boy decide his own fate, his own influence be damned.

But it felt great to have a friend that enjoyed this part of his life. Someone who wanted an active part. Emma was great to share things with, but she would never don the jacket or take the helm. She was a passenger in the ride of his life. It was fortunate for him that her boy wanted to be a partner.

"He's a natural," Hook commented as he walked down the short staircase to the deck.

"Whoa, you're letting a six year old steer this thing?"

"Don't worry," he waved her concern off. "We're several hundred yards off and the winds are calm. Let's let him feel important for a minute, yeah?"

"If you're sure," she said, glancing back up at her boy. He looked very serious and attentive.

Hook walked to the railing, peering over the side and down at the water below. The smell of the salt and the feel of the breeze through his hair was a balm to his soul. Although he loved his life on land, he did miss a life at sea. His heart would always beat in time to the water's waves.

"How about a dubloon for _your_ thoughts," she said, leaning on the rail next to him.

"I'm more easily bought than you," he chuckled, reaching over to pull her tightly against his side.

"Good, what are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking about how much fun I've had today."

"You two seem pretty chummy."

"Aye. He's the perfect first mate. Takes orders well, learns fast, doesn't get underfoot. _And_ he dresses the part."

"He's adorable."

"Don't let him hear you say that," he cautioned. "Pirates aren't adorable. We're manly and imposing. Debonair, really."

She nodded at that, and turned to tuck her face into his chest. It was uncomfortably cold outside, and she was sure that he knew it. Luckily they were headed home, where she had set up a pirate's treasure hunt for Henry before she had left the house. There was a map that took him all over the house and the yard looking for clues. The whole thing ended with a box full of candy buried under the bushes against the back fence. It would keep him busy for a while.

"I should spend more time out here," he commented wryly. "For all of the loves of my life, I don't pay enough attention to the first."

"After today I'm sure you'll have crew to pester you about it," she grinned.

"He's really enjoying himself with all this."

"Yeah, I think he is. Even if it's just a phase, I'm glad that you two are spending some one on one time together."

"You mean father-son time," he corrected.

"Well I didn't want to put it like that," she frowned. "It's not something I want to force on you."

"Whether you want to admit it right now or not, some day I'm going to marry you. I'm the closest thing that boy is ever going to have to a father. Let's not beat around the bush."

"Killian-"

"I mean it, Swan. That boy needs a father and I'm going to do my damnedest to fill the role."

"Those are big words," she said, her voice thick with some emotion she couldn't place.

"Well you know me, I never do anything half-assed. All or nothing. Are you in?"

"I think so," she nodded, breathless.

He leaned down and gave her a slow, lingering kiss. He wanted to convey in the action all of the sentiment he felt and the truth of his words. Even if she didn't believe him, he had time to make her. If it took him a hundred years, he would spend the whole time convincing her. Love made him a fool in that regard.

"I've spent too much time down here wooing you," he smiled, bumping their noses affectionately.

"Are you gonna let our son crash the ship?"

His face lit up at that. "I hope you know how to swim."

"I do, but he doesn't. Maybe a lesson for another time?"

"Aye," he called out over his shoulder as he made his way back to the bridge.

* * *

It was well into the evening by the time they had begun to make their way home. After sailing, Henry had insisted on another round of sword fighting followed by a short-lived game of tag. He had run around so much that he had worn himself out. Killian had hoisted him up halfway back, and the boy had fallen asleep with his head tucked into the pirate's neck.

He was somewhat heavy for such a distance, but it wasn't too far away, so he didn't mind the weight.

When they walked in the front door, Killian decided to lay the boy out on the couch rather than tempt fate by walking up the stairs. He didn't want to wake him up just yet, even with it being hours past an acceptable nap time.

"He's never going to get to sleep tonight," Emma frowned.

"Maybe not, but it's only for one night. Besides, tomorrow is still the weekend. Just let him have a bit of a lie in. He'll be fine."

"Is that your first fatherly decree?" she teased.

"Perhaps," he nodded as he settled himself down at one of the kitchen table chairs. "Gotta start somewhere."

"Well if we're going to let him sleep, then why not take advantage of the time?" she suggested.

"Oh? Do you have some ideas?"

"Well, I hear pirates like treasure," she said as she seated herself on his lap. "And I _might_ have found a map earlier that leads to something pretty good."

"Where is this map?" Killian asked with interest.

Emma fished around in her back pocket, pulling out a folded piece of notebook paper. On it was a crudely drawn map of their house, marked with small, dashed lines leading up to a giant X in what he assumed to be the middle of their bed.

"Madame wench," he said, gripping her to his body as he stood. "Would you care to accompany me on this hunt?"

"Absolutely," she replied with a chuckle. "After all, I've got the treasure chest."

"Aye, that you do, love. That you do."

 **Fin** -

A pirate's life for me!


End file.
